⏤ Those words I just heard... what were they?
Julian's mind felt clear. The relentless barrage of stomping that he was subjected to felt more and more like mere taps to the face. He felt oddly detached.
⏤ Abandon... all? Abandon it all... what are they talking about?
It was calming. Julian felt like he was no longer present. A gust of wind, traveling along the breeze. A grain of sand. A current of water.
Then, it all came back to him in a single go.
He felt all the pain from the stomps, colliding with his head.
⏤ Fuck!
He sprang up.
"Thank goodness. I nearly passed out. That would've been the end for me."
The headmaster stopped in his tracks.
"There's no way. Are you still alive? I've been looking for that Leonore friend of yours. It seems that he ran away, leaving you to die. Damn it. I should've really made sure that you died."
⏤ Before... he had no plan of killing me. He truly believes I'm weak now.
"I told him to go. That's because I can handle you myself."
"Haah!" the headmaster laughed, turning around at an abnormal speed. He began sprinting toward Julian.
An unfamiliar confidence coursed through Julian's body.
He coughed out blood, and chunks of guts that definitely should've been in his body, leaving his tongue a darker, crimson red. The strikes that the headmaster threw were definitely causing damage. But for some reason, he didn't care.
He was fully himself. He remembered everything, especially the memories he made with Eudora, which really motivated him. But with a more sensible mindset, he didn't want to just kill the headmaster.
Julian spat onto the floor.
The headmaster ran at him with a lack of killing intent.
Julian balled his fist, throwing a single punch at the headmaster.
Bsh!
It connected.
The connection of the strike shocked both Julian and the headmaster.
⏤ So my concerns were right. That voice... has some correlation with this. What am I abandoning, though? It's no matter. I have to use this newfound strength to win.
The headmaster was taken aback, both visually and physically. He rubbed his slightly sore cheek.
There was no time for him to think about what had just occurred.
Slsh!
Swiping his hand forward, he created a blade of air that charged through the air.
Julian ducked.
⏤ Now that I really, truly know that I can hit him... I feel so different.
[Spirit Cast: Fire Ball]
Black flames accumulated in the palm of Julian's hand. Still unacquainted with the scorching heat of the fire, he shook his hands for a second, throwing the ball at the headmaster.
The flames dispersed in front of him.
"I'll give you what you want."
In the present opening, Julian threw another punch, this time, a lot harder.
The headmaster fell to the ground, blood spraying out of his nose.
Wasting no time, Julian mounted him.
"Why'd you do it?"
He threw a punch.
"Why'd you... send Beiric to kill Eudora?"
He threw a second punch.
"I'm who you've been looking for, right? To end your pathetic life. To give you the sweet release of death. So tell me why you did it. That's the least you could do, right!?" Julian yelled.
Julian hadn't even realized it.
Tears dropped on the headmaster's calm, almost satisfied face. Splashing.
"This isn't right. This isn't right at all."
Julian interlaced his fingers, hanging his arms high.
Bam!
It took a multitude of slams.
Blood splattered. Bits of bones scraped the sides of Julian's palms, while the dull pink brain matter spewed and gushed. His eyeballs bulged like a balloon being squeezed, ready to pop.
Julian got off of the headmaster.
"Eudora, Cerat. That was far too anticlimactic. Even for me. Are you guys happy now?" he looked up.
Something caught his eye.
A leather book, just slightly open. Coarse, yellow-gray pages filled the book.
Julian picked it up.
It was engraved with three words.
"Grace of... Athulo."
He stuck the book into his pocket, numb fingers barely able to grip it and slide it in.
A painful headache suddenly came to him.
. . .
. .
.
The house was quiet.
It gave one that mood, that feeling of coming back home, and nobody was there.
Quiet, dust-filled. Vacant.
It reminded Julian of the days before he was sent here.
On a wooden table located in the kitchen, there was a piece of paper. Written in poor handwriting, as if the writer was in some hurry.
"I'm sorry I couldn't stay long. The cast I used to hold us all together had a downside, and that was essentially my life. Thank you two for letting me see your memories. When you leave this mental world, you and Ailas will split again, and you'll forget about Eudora and things of such nature."
At the bottom of the paper, 'From, Gulian' could barely be read.
"The headmaster was very influential. Everyone's gonna be looking for me, huh?" Julian sighed.
He looked down at his feet.
"I'm all alone again."
He looked back up and walked toward the door.
. . .
. .
"You're back..."
The hospital was empty and quiet. Light shined through the stained glass, casting light against Isalda's pale, sickly face. The hospital bed's blanket covered her body from her neck to her feet.
Seeing Jisvo enter the room, she sat up, a weak smile creeping onto her face.
The bandage on her forehead that had to be replaced every so often was moist and stained.
Her lips were cracked and dry; when they parted to form a smile, her skin appeared very uncomfortable.
She coughed.
"Of course, I'm back. Did you think I would leave you?"
"No. I wouldn't think of something so foolish. You would never leave me, Jisvo."
Jisvo's worried stare slowly melted, forming just the smallest smile on his lips.
"The doctor told me they'll be able to make an antidote for you."
"I know. She told me a little bit about it. There was dragon essence laced on the blade… that's what's making me feel like this."
"Here I was, thinking that dragons were no longer a thing."
The room fell silent. A comforting silence. Jisvo's eyes did not leave Isalda's face, scanning her every movement, looking for signs of discomfort.
Besides the physical signs, he couldn't find any emotional distress.
Feeling relieved, he sighed.